


Bacon and Eggs

by hallulawy



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Egg Laying, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light BDSM, M/M, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallulawy/pseuds/hallulawy
Summary: When his lover kneels to pick up one of the eggs, fear rolls in his belly like an avalanche and he wants to vomit. Hyperventilation dangerously close, his privacy all crumbled into sand and John kiss the egg he’s been inspecting.‘Oh Finch.’Chapter 2 is just the fanart I drew in 2016.Chapter 3 is an explanatory chapter on how Harold deal with the eggs and Hobben smut.Chapter 4 is an apology for the Hobben segment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to realise this kink since August 2016, because of the picture I drew. Finally did it for myself and despite the flaws, I don't regret writing it.  
> Hopefully it's a good read.  
> I'll try to post the picture in a separate chapter so that it won't affect the reading experience.

John Reese’s hands are covered in hair gel, his usual black suit white shirt getup all ready and jaw shaved clean. The warm donuts and a duo of sencha green tea in equally generic boxes are on the kitchen island. Today is one of those days marked with red on the wall calender. Having checked his teeth, a short message is sent before stepping out of the house. A short affirmative received as he walk on the street, and John Reese could almost taste the shyness through the screen as his lover prepare himself for their small session.

* * *

 

****Four months ago** **

The number threw both of them by surprise. Right after Reese settled the pursuers, she shot him in the abdomen before running off herself. The Bulgarian assassin identity that didn’t quite match fell into the puzzle as Finch shouted into Reese’s earpiece. He’s lucky that he wore the bullet proof vest, thanks to Finch’s persistent insistence. He whisper to his anxious lover soothingly, as though the teflon is not penetrated by the close ranged shot and his abdomen isn’t heavily bruised. She used a handgun, Reese whispers, it’s not that bad. Maybe just a couple of ribs, you can wrap me up easy.

Which his companion did, doing so quietly when both of them are back in the library. Reese couldn’t recall how he returned, just some walking and then eventually a car came in. It may’ve been worse than he described because he remember hearing Finch muttering about going to Doctor Farooq. But he said no, maybe later. And Finch listened to him. He was so gentle around the wound Reese fell asleep in the process. When he woke up, the smaller man was by the library’s only bed, napping on the uncomfortable chair with a skimpy blanket on his lap. Reese look at the sweat drenched bed, his jaw strained when he sat up. But he pulled the bed blanket to Finch’s body, then collapsing with his arm on the man’s lap.

The next time he woke up, the blankets back on him. It’s probably noon. He tries pacing around in the room, although he could barely keep himself straight. Finch told him several times that his body is not made of titanium, but without dispute, he recuperates fast. He take a look on his phone and realize it’s that time of the month again. The short period where Finch would just disappear for at least one full day before appearing again. He noticed a certain pattern to the event, although Finch did try to throw him off with some fake dates, but those are taken away since they came together. It may be a dirty trick and a clear invasion of Harold’s sacred privacy, but adhesiveness did disintegrate some of what Harold attempted to misdirect.

He was thinking if he should put on his shirt when something subtle echo outside the room. Intuitively, he went back to bed. His handgun conveniently stashed beneath the pillow as he feign his sleep. A couple of minutes later, someone walked in with the smell of generic chicken soup. Takeout. Grunting, the limping steps cease as the person sits down. 

 __Finch, of course._ _ __

Few muffled moans rang, and Reese instinctively wanted to spring out of his bed. He didn’t. The sounds are nowhere near pain, but borderline erotic. Those that Finch would make when they’re having a frenzied moment, when Finch’s hole swallows his cock too hungrily, their kisses too slobbery and hot as Reese thrusts into him too fast. A small whimper came out and Finch got up to leave the room. Reese open his eyes as the door close. He waited for a few more minutes before he got up, moving stealthily to find the room that Finch is currently in. There was something about those sounds that reeked with peculiarity. He didn’t abort the possibility that Finch could be wounded, but whatever it was, it was out of the norm.

Dead silence allowed Reese to trace the nervous breathing. Finch was just in one of the neighbouring rooms, couldn’t even bother closing the door to John’s advantage. He probably thought so long as he hid deeper into the room, it’s fine. __John’s still sleeping, nobody’s around.__ John walk towards the source as quiet as he could, the carpet absorbing his bare steps. A halt at another half closed door, he found his little bird within a study room.

Finch is all huddled in a corner, bare bottomed on a cushion with his trousers aside. He could see how Finch’s thighs are spread naturally and how he’s fingering his hole. Finch doesn’t have his glasses on, his face too flushed and wet. Was he just horny? John may have a bullet across his abdomen yesterday, but he can still help. He doesn’t sound like he’s wanting previously. Rather it inclined to a certain necessity. Despite the amazing view, he notice that Harold isn’t even erect as he thrusts three fingers into the slippery hole John know so well. They never had to use lubricants because of how wet Harold gets, John was so astonished when Finch take in his cock easily with just some fingering, his insides warm and slicked, enveloping like the way Finch always is.

Finch suddenly shudders and cries softly as he spreads his thighs even further. The limp cock jolts as he pries the hole apart with his fingers, as though he’s trying to push something out. John realize he may be witnessing something so contradicting to Finch’s nature that he should leave, but he couldn’t. He doesn’t want to. More cries reach his ears, Finch breathing heavily as the face goes fully red and contorted.

Slowly, something round and pale peeks out of the stretched rim, Harold shaking as he pushes until it plops out of the red hole and onto the dark carpet, soaked in bodily fluids.

It’s an egg.

John thought it’s a toy when he first saw it, but it looks nothing like those plastic or metal toys. It’s undeniable that its size and colour is equivalent to a common egg, even though it’s got an oddly pinkish hue.

The ex-CIA agent watches as Finch lays two more eggs, identical to the first. Finch’s half erect cock spurts a bit of pre-cum and he lies against the wall. Utterly worn out, the hole oozes more fluid while the thighs remain widely spread. He was about to doze off in his own mess when he feel someone standing in front of him.

The feeling of impending doom must have concretized into something palpable. Blurry but he could identify the person. When his lover kneels to pick up one of the eggs, fear rolls in his belly like an avalanche and he wants to vomit. Hyperventilation dangerously close, his privacy all crumbled into sand and John kiss the egg he’s been inspecting.

‘Oh Finch,’ His lover murmurs, and part of Harold Finch’s perception of reality shattered in his tears.

 

* * *

 

 

His lover is in his usual set of waistcoat and slacks as he tap on his keyboard. He gave John a quick glance before giving a ‘good morning, Mr Reese’ in between the taps. The donuts and tea is received with shorter thanks and they share the breakfast in silence, John sipping his tea slowly as his employer munches.

The month after their incident, Harold allowed him to stay and observe properly, due to John’s glued persistence on the matter. The month after, John is permitted to participate by fingering the nervous hole, the eggs plopped out instantly after the thick fingers caress the insides passionately. Last month, they fucked after Harold laid all two eggs. Harold pried his hole open and invited the thick cock, face flushed from his own action but body so needy because of how long it’s been since they last made love. So sensitized and pliant, he came instantly when John prodded against his sweet spot with his thick cock. John fell in love with the tender muscles that tried to suck him in like a popsicle in a hot summer day.

His lover explained to him about his physiology, how it resembles the ovulation cycle of females. It ran through his family as long as it was traceable, occurring only on certain male members. John never asked what he did with the eggs and Harold never mentioned, so they kept that aside. He was at first worried about how it affects his hips, but Harold just said ‘it’s bearable’. Which in John’s understanding means painful and undiminishable. He wanted to offer something to alleviate the pain but Finch just said with a small shrug that it really wasn’t that awful. It’s temporary in nature, although his emotions about such a physiology ran for decades since it occurred.

Inconvenient and somewhat embarrassing.

John kisses his cheek softly and said nothing. He wanted to tell him that he doesn’t mind but that’s pretty useless. Harold’s the one who had to bear with such an enormous secret and inconvenience for most of his life, his thoughts on it would reflect only his own ego. So he told him he would help as much as he could and Harold grins shyly at that suggestion, pecked John’s fingers and whispered a thanks.

Finch finished only half his donut. John long realize it’s normal for Harold to have weaker appetite for the few days nearing his period. Harold said he would feel heavier too, more so when he walk. So John made sure he would walk the least, get himself running around for errands and short of carrying his lover to wherever he wish. Offering short massages and warm honeyed milk when he’s too tired, doing all he could to minimize the discomfort. Harold said it’s too much, he’s not pregnant. But he didn’t refuse any of the services offered, kissing John appreciatively on the cheek after each massage.

‘How are you feeling?’ John cleans off the remnants on the table.

‘Very full.’ Harold admits, his lips pursed into a thin frown as he resumes with his work. He gave a call to Detective Fusco earlier, ringing him from his beauty sleep. Today’s number is thankfully easy and since they would be largely preoccupied, it’s a blessing. The Machine is oddly considerate on days like this, giving only the least difficult number to him as if it knew. It probably knew as well as he, that today is the day where his physiology requires his (now their) absence. He already fingered himself in the shower, but unfortunately it’s not coming as soon as he predicted. Now that John is here, they would be sharing the moment again.

It’s still awkward to launch into the process in front of John, to feel his heated gaze as he push out the eggs. Privacy well tainted but he doesn’t want to refuse John’s presence. Shamefully, he feel a rush of sexual excitement at the voyeurism, his lover not even saying a word but the tented slacks made him felt beyond his biology. He almost came when John held his freshly produced eggs, were it not for the bespoke shirt that covered his fully erect cock as he clench at nothing. He allowed them to make love last month, so needy for the thick cock after his hole is so well stretched, it’s almost a waste for John not to fuck him. Maybe it’s a quasi-heat, his sexual needs heightened after each session. Or perhaps he’s just too attached to John’s generous cock.

John shifts awkwardly beside the table, obviously there’re no errands for him. All they could do is wait and Harold is still too shy to even talk about it. He was about to walk to his arsenal when Harold finally spoke up.

‘I haven’t clean up the room. If it’s not too much of a bother,’ He says, fingers going faster. ‘Probably noon.’ He adds, cheeks flushing at the indication.

‘Okay.’ John suppresses a grin and walk to the room they’ve been using, took off his black jacket and immediately start making it accommodating at least for half a day.

It’s just like preparing their nest.

 

* * *

 

 

John help Harold onto the bed as he breaks into cold sweat, taking off the clothes as gentle as he could when Harold fumbles with his belt. There’s a jug of water by the bedside table just in case Harold gets dehydrated, a small cushion under Harold’s waist to make the process easier. His now bare lover heaves helplessly while hugging his belly, the skin pink as the toes curl up in pain. John take away the glasses and give him soothing kisses, reminding him to relax and take deep breaths. A large hand massages the cramped belly and the other kneads one of the tensed thighs. Too nervous, Harold chokes on his breath while spreading his thighs, his pink hole all clenched up.

‘Shh, Harold, tell me if it hurts more this time,’ John tries to pry the hole apart with his thumb but to no avail. The pained moans is making him slightly anxious but he couldn’t have that. Harold mutters a __no__ , his arms hugging his belly while taking deeper breathes. John could finally dip a quarter of his thumb in, but it’s still too tight. So he leaned in and lick the tensed orifice, making Harold squeak in surprise. Panicked hands pushing his head but John persevered, he latches his mouth onto the rim and slowly dipped his tongue into it. It wasn’t long before he could taste the fluids, a good suck on the stubborn hole before it scrunches up again.

Eventually, Harold is gushing streams of fluids onto the bedsheets, his cock shamefully erect. The pain withered away and John thrusts three fingers into the drenched hole, his lover sobbing at the stimulation and produced the first egg just as John pressed on his prostate. This moment never fails to astonish the ex CIA agent, shy Harold laying an egg after the other like a real finch. His lover breathtakingly vulnerable as he tries to open himself up further too, thinner fingers dip into the hungry hole beside John’s fingers, unaware that his soft breasts form a cleavage as he does so. Gender has always been vague in Harold’s demeanor, more so when he flush so prettily.

Another egg is laid after a couple of minutes, then another. They’re almost identical and Harold said that’s how it usually is. Three is generally the maximum, so John pulled out his fingers, signifying the end. He licks the watery fluid coating the fingers, slacks tented but he’s not paying it attention yet. He could always take care of himself during Harold’s nap. He was about to congratulate his lover on his effort when the man start gasping in pain. The blue eyes lit in disbelief as Harold grips onto the bedsheet in a struggle, the tendon in his neck apparent with pained moans.

‘There’s one more,’ Harold breathes difficultly, eyes teared up and lips quivering. John could barely imagine the pain he’s going through, his own fear rising. ‘I-I can’t,’ He stutters in fear.

‘Harold, __breathe!__ ’ John pats his face slightly, his other hand pressing on the belly trying to calm him down. This is out of the norm, and must be a first, Harold couldn’t even control his own body as tears trail the flushed cheeks.

‘It’s t-too big, I can’t push it out,’ The whole body coiled up at the statement, fear tainting the pale features on the evident possibility of having the egg lodged too deep in him, or the worst possible scenario where it just breaks under pressure. Both too palpable and too painful to conceive. Or the worst, to be admitted to the hospital and his condition well exposed. Then their identity. A series of nightmare.

John coos to his panic-stricken lover, telling him to breathe and relax. It will end soon. Contagiously, the pain his lover is having is affecting his emotions too. He tries to open him up with his fingers again but it’s not working, they’re not reaching anywhere near the egg. In a flurry of a moment, he pick up his pallid lover and hug him tight. Harold hear a loud unzipping. He look down and see the cock he’s so familiar, eyes darting to and fro in sudden realization.

‘Wait, John, I don’t think,’ John collect some of the slickness from the smaller man’s weeping hole and proceed to vigorously pump the already hard cock. Harold stutters and tries to tell him the improbability but it came too late. The thick cock pushes through the rim before Harold could argue further.

He sobs as John pushes in slowly, his insides kissing the veins on the heavy cock and wanting it to go deeper despite his own intentions. John murmuring into his ear and reminding him to relax. The cock head goes as deep as it could until an obstacle is felt, the last egg nudging against the leaking tip. Harold’s nervous hands fidgets on his belly, too full with John’s cock and his own egg. He cries softly as the cock nudges against the egg, telling John to stop because he could feel it go even deeper. His lover laps away his tears and kisses him full as he starts thrusting in and out, brimmed fluids seeps into the duvet sheets. 

The smaller man sniffles and sobs as John makes long and sweet thrusts, opening him up so good. Bulbous cock tip weighs deliciously on his prostate, almost painful for Harold as he clenches uncontrollably against the cock. Harold bounces with John holding onto his hips while they try to budge the large egg from where its lodged. As if it’s still possible, John grabs the ass mounds in his hands, the already well stretched hole pulled even further, leading more and more of the sweet fluids down the way.

The cock gave the egg more soft nudges until it finally budged. Harold gasps as he let the thick cock inch out while the large hands pry his hole as much as it could. Harold shudders as he pushes the egg out along with the cock, feeling it slip through his softened muscles and finally towards the opening. The cock head still inside the drenched rim, and just as the egg is weighed on the tip, John pulls it out with a resounding pop and the egg plops into his hand.

Much heavier and larger than all the other eggs, John let Harold have a good look at it. His employer breathes heavily with hooded eyes as he cups it in his hands, his hole clenching at the hollowness, a small o dribbling generous fluids onto its lover’s heavy manhood. He puts it aside with the other eggs and kisses John gratuitously, lowering his hips onto his lover’s groin. The puckered rim rubs against the still hard cock, reminiscent of its girth as Harold sucks on John’s tongue with no purer innuendo. John prefer taking it slow although Harold prefer playing it swift for efficiency. He know how much of a toll it is on Harold’s body after the session. But he believe that a little foreplay goes a long way. Rubbing the sore hips earned him fluttery kisses on the crown of his head.

John takes his time playing with the perk nipples, his wet cock enjoying Harold’s service. He could easily go balls deep into this soft body, Harold so loose and sweet he may even be able to stuff his sacks in. The thought is dispelled quickly as he pinches the nub, Harold moaning as he tries to take the cock. To cause discomfort to his lover is never on his list. Currently, priority number one should be to comply to his employer’s needs. John being the good employee he is, fed his ravenous employer his fingers, plugging up the wet hole. Only when Harold bites onto his jaw punishingly did he push in his cock. It went in as smooth as knife through cream.

‘Am I too loose?’ Harold gasps as he tries to clench against the thick cock, always so fulfilling and well to him. He’s a tad worried that the last egg may have stretched him too far and it would reduce John’s experience. He could still feel how the thick girth impale his ass with vigour, but it slides out too easily for his own taste. Finch clenches harder against the cock and pride blossoms in his chest at the grunt John makes.

It’s not too hard to admit that he may have a small fetish for his employee’s thick cock, his legs wobble like newborn foal when he have it in his mouth or ass, leaving him so full and loved. He would always swallow the thick semen despite how incompatible it is with his palate, allowing it to stay inside him until he couldn’t contain it anymore. He pecks his lovers smiling lips and could feel the cock pulsating in his ass as it thrusts faster and deeper into him.

The leaking cock between them thumbed as they collaborate harmoniously in the venture. Eliciting a hum from his lover and a satisfied clench, John takes a good bite on the soft breast while his fingers play with the erect pink cock. ‘You’re fine,’ John gives the reddened flesh a broad lap. ‘I like it when you’re this wet and soft.’ He pulls out and pushes Harold into the bed, have the legs clamped around his hips before continuing.

Harold gasps as John slaps his ass playfully, his cock poking the prostate, ‘But I’m a bit worried,’ His lover fucks him deeper and harder as he sucks in the cock eagerly, ‘You sure it’s clear?’ He nods against the eggs on the bedside table.

‘I-I’m sure there’s none l-left,’ Harold breathes out, hitched moans squeezed out of his throat as they move back and forth simultaneously on the sheets. John laughs and place one of his hands on the soft belly, exerting a small pressure on it. Carrying a knowing smile, he palm the belly with intent. Harold darts his tongue nervously and received the message. It’s one of the moments where they would play on bed like rambunctious lovers, unearthing each others fetishes and never surfaced wants with not so tender words. He dips his head and makes a small sob, legs clamping onto the hips like never wanting it to leave.

‘Any more eggs for today?’ John says, fucking into his lover slowly, entering into a dimension of pleasure that hopefully they both would enjoy.

‘N-no,’ Harold murmurs shyly, hugging his belly as if berating himself.

‘But that’s what you said previously,’ John stops thrusting and gropes the soft ass mound like dough. ‘You wanted my cock so much, didn’t you? Wanted to be fucked so bad that you didn’t even bother if there were.’ He whispers into Harold’s ear and could see how the eyelashes flutter in shame.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harold struggles to take in more of the cock, anxious when his lover doesn’t even want to budge. ‘I was too n-needy.’

‘Bad little boys like you don’t mean it when you say sorry,’ John licks his lips as Harold tries his best to retain the leaving cock, tears welling up in those big eyes when only the cock head lingers. ‘Or did you like being filled up so much? Sucking on cock isn’t enough for your loose hole anymore, ain’t it?’

Harold listen to those embarrassing insults and could feel his cheeks burning. How much truth it held, he would never admit. ‘That’s not true.’ He clenches against the cock head, pleading for it to stay. He circles his arms around his lover, wanting more of the experience they’re exploring. He love being John’s pliant attachment on bed, his accessory that could take in all the big cock could ever offer and more.

‘I saw you cumming after laying your eggs,’ John whispers menacingly, ‘Thought nobody was watching and still wanted my cock to fuck you right,’ He breathes onto the trembling cheek, ‘Hole so fucking wet, couldn’t even keep myself in.’ Just as he said that, he pulled out completely and the fluids gushed out to prove him right. The puckered hole sobbing at the loss.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ The smaller man whimpers at the loss, his hole oozing miserably, clenching pathetically at air. John could see the carmine insides because of how stretched it is. ‘I promise there’s no more,’ _J _ust need your cock inside__. He pecks the flushed cheekbones in a flurry, clamping on the leaving hips harder to pull in the hard cock.

‘We can stuff your eggs back, can’t we?’ John still unpersuaded, a long glance at the eggs on the bedside table, noticing how Harold tense up at the suggestion. ‘Stuff you full with your own eggs again and then this,’ John pumps his own cock, red thick and menacing, white globules dripped onto Harold’s flushed thigh. ‘You like that?’

The smaller man shivers at the thought, his belly would be so full and heavy, carrying more than he could bear. The sound of the shells clanking against each other as John fuck him raw made him squirm, his hole sucking on nothing but his own shame as he whispers a small ‘no, please don’t,’. He puts his hand on John’s encircling fist and led it near the puckered rim again. His gaping hole take the cock tip in, enticing it to enter as Harold licks John’s pursed lips, begging for him to proceed.

‘Just your cock please,’ He nibbles on the lower lip, hand trembling as he pulls one of his ass cheeks aside, let his lover see just how much he’s aching for it, ‘I’ll be good and take it all in, just for __you__.’

‘Just me?’

‘Always.’

Their lips smashes against each other and muffled moans shared as John’s tongue fuck the sensitive cavity, his cock swallowed up by the soft hole easy. Bathed in warmth and succulent sweetness, he rests in the depths of his lover, his ball sacks snuggled up by the wet rim, soaked by the brimmed slickness. John kneads the soft mounds lovingly, drinking in Harold’s tiny moans as he moves. Giving it a good slap, he pulls out as the ass clenches under simulation only to impale the tightened muscles again fervently. Harold’s stuttered moans make the best encouragement, their bodies flushed and sweaty, his head inching towards the headboard while John fucks deeper and faster. He gives the ass a few more slaps before pulling both of Harold’s legs to his shoulders, not too difficult for his wounded hip but just enough for him to bite on the pale knee, creating an illusion of his cock plummeting into the pliant ass while his employer deliver choked moans into his ears. The ass clenched so tight around his cock, John find his voice strained as he bullies himself in.

‘You like this? Now you’re so fucking __tight__ ,’ The man grits his teeth as he labours to pull his cock out, ‘It’s like you don’t even want me to leave,’ He rams into the pale body again, those soft folds on the belly and the small breasts jumping at his roughness. The male body beneath softened by oval curves, striking a soft contrast to the pink cock that’s flailing between them helplessly, weeping as John bullies the prostate incessantly. Harold so flushed his words came out bitesized, blue eyes glistening as he says ‘yes’, or ‘more’.

‘Don’t l-leave,’ Harold struggles to produce this sentence, John fucking him so deep and good, euphoria is within his reach. White-knuckled on the bedsheet, his feet strains as he feels his impending orgasm. ‘Fuck me more,’ He shivers at his own profanities, his ass milking the thick girth, greedy for anything it could offer. He want to be filled until there’s no more space for him to produce any more of those dreaded eggs, just thick streams of semen painting him his.

Short screams gauged from the usually calm and reserved one, his lover giving his everything as the bed creaks to their lovemaking. Sloshing sounds fill their ears, sweet nothings gushed along with the sweet fluids from the intersection, promises wrecking both of them as Harold cums with a breathless moan, staining his own abdomen. The agonizingly sweet suction prompted John to follow suit, and he did. Spurts of hot semen filled up the sensitized cavity, Harold’s thighs shivering beside his ears as they take in the sex filled air around them. The pink tongue darts out in thirst, eyes soft at how his handsome lover’s hair fall in front of his eyes, face flushed at their nervewrecking orgasm.

‘You good?’

‘Better than good.’ His eyes trailing how John picks up a dry cloth from the bedside drawers and soak it with water from the jug. Thighs still spread, Harold hums as John wipes their mess. Drowsiness kicks in and he clings onto the arm beside him, giving it a good night kiss before drifting into his dreams.

‘Wake me up at five.’ Harold murmurs, not waiting for John’s reply. John wouldn’t wake him up. He’d let him sleep to his heart’s content. ‘We’ll have Italian tonight.’ But John wouldn’t refuse a dinner invitation.

‘Sure you don’t want bacon with eggs?’ A kiss on his eyelids as John rubs his abdomen, then pulling him in.

‘Breakfast. Just bacon, no eggs.’ Harold would deal with the eggs after this.

‘Not even eggs benedict?’

‘Good night, John.’

‘See you in my dreams, Harold.’


	2. Fanart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fanart I drew in August 2016.  
> It was just for fun but the urge to expand on was overwhelming.
> 
> In the fic, the cushion is beneath Harold, so maybe that's the largest difference between this and that?


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘My production ceased three months ago.’ Ben’s voice small.  
> Harold goes silent, uncertain of what to say. There are only two possibilities to this.  
> ‘Abnormality?’ Harold whispers.  
> ‘No. Nothing like that.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a number of people inquired about Harold's method in dealing with the eggs :D  
> I thought about it and this is my answer to that question.  
> Hopefully it's decent.  
> Also I couldn't really remember Escape Plan's background settings and I'm worried that I didn't describe Ben accurately. Forgive me if that's the case.
> 
> EDIT : I'm very sorry. I'm always rather forgetful with warnings and tags, but this chapter contains non-con elements! The initial stages of Hobben dynamics are non-con to a certain degree (rape, even!)! Please take mind of that, and if you're not okay with this, please feel free to exit prior to that segment. Thank you.

John watch as Harold collect the eggs in the morning. The last one seemed like a giant as compared to its ‘siblings’. He know he shouldn’t be calling them that, because Harold would disapprove at calling them with any term resembling life.

‘Just eggs,’ Harold told him when he asked. ‘Nothing more.’

Harold said he need some alone time, just four hours and he’d be back. John allows the kiss on his cheek, and let his little bird go. He exceeded many private territories, but he couldn’t tread past this. This goes beyond any remits of their relationship, and Harold is keen in keeping it that way.

 

* * *

 

 

Harold Finch is on his way to one of his assets in the west side of the city. The eggs are tucked in a small container, kept in his expandable briefcase. The drive is short, but he know John wouldn’t near here even if he knew. He made sure that he’d never come near. John is not the only one to plant GPS trackers on others.

He enter the flat and at first sight, it looks like those houses ready to be rented. Empty and barely any furniture. Harold walks into the corner room, kneels difficultly and open one of the loose boards. He tap on the sleek security keypad and a clocking motion echoes in the room. Then a resounding click. He turns to face the small closet, the door opened itself. A line of stairs stepped on as he finally reach the dominant part of the safehouse. 

It’s chilly but still bearable. He’s always reluctant to turn on the radiator. He switch on the refrigerator instead. A moment later, the eggs are taken out, smaller ones put into the fridge. He will dispose the eggs in three hours, just as he always do. He would prefer freezing them to make sure anything inside would cease to live but the consequences are rather messy. The large one stays for some further observation.

He recounts the days where John and he had sex before this period, only once where John penetrated him without a condom. They had a hectic month with little free time. Disregarding any factors that may heighten probabilities for proper insemination, he slowly maps out reasons as to the size of this egg. He’ve only laid smaller ones, never anything this size.

Whether this egg is fertilized or not, it doesn’t matter. With the lack of incubation it should halt in any development, he would destroy it soon. He inspects the egg just in case, he never told John the possibility of insemination. The family line produced few unique cases, shared in a family log book passed to them by their father. The previous cases involve the male being inseminated, but rather than laying eggs akin to abominations, it ends up in common impregnation. They just carry the baby for nine months and a human child is given birth.

Father told them that’s how their grandfather was born. Hailed as a genius in his time. That didn’t really ease their angst, the mere thought of laying eggs like hen made Ben cry for days. He was only eight and petrified at the idea. Harold just calmed his brother while praying himself. The inconvenience, shame and utter unreasonableness of the condition made him wary of everything around him. Eventually, after their father passed and he reached 13, he realize the gravity of the situation.

He laid two small eggs in his room, slippery and pink, he remember crying for fifteen minutes at the pain and reality before disposing them. The family book recorded the traditional method since the start of the line: freeze and hammer. He couldn’t really understand the redundancy of the methodology, so he just crack them open and flush the content. The egg shells discarded into the bins.

Although it was also said that they are safe for consumption in later years, but Harold turns himself away from the option. It makes his belly upset. He wouldn’t want to judge any of his ancestors that made the brave attempt to eat their own produce.

There has been no reluctance in discarding the eggs. They were clear on the distinction, there is nothing inside. Rather than consuming them, they’d rather just make sure it’s gone for good. Even if it’s fertilized, the fear for anything abominable overcomes any possible affection. They don’t need to rerun any cliche’d and heavily romanticized tropes.

He flicks off the light in the room and candles the egg. Stared at it for a minute and found there’s nothing inside. So it’s just an abnormally large egg. But why?

Harold sits for a moment, staring at the fridge. Reluctance bound him for a few minutes before he reach behind the table to pull out a small box. Old but still sturdy, he flicks it on and tuned until he reach the desired frequency. He would prefer something newer and efficient, but Ben doesn’t have the prerequisite materials to build one himself. This item has ensured that their communication kept untraceable and encrypted for decades, hopefully since its last use, it is still functioning.

After a bit more tuning and tinkering, the familiar buzz echoes in the cold room.

‘Egret?’ He hears, eyebrows pulled upwards and smiling.

‘Yes, Gale. It’s been long since we last called.’ Six months, in fact.

‘I missed talking to you. What’s the occasion?’

‘I’m glad you’re still carrying this around.’ Harold smiles, his brother is always traveling around so to keep this must’ve occupied a substantial corner of his luggage. ‘I’ve been concerned with something. Wanted to ask if it occurred to you. Have you been producing larger inconveniences lately?’ 

‘Larger what?’ Ben replies in confusion. It seems six months has really rendered their communication slightly dull.

‘The monthly production.’ Harold murmurs, unable to speak about it even under concealed communication. But his brother caught his signal and made a sound notifying his comprehension.

‘No. No I haven’t. Have you?’

‘Yesterday, a particularly large one. At least twice the size of the common production. But it’s blank.’

‘So it’s just bigger?’ Ben’s voice slightly static. ‘Does it have anything to do with eating habits? Lifestyle?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Harold says slowly. He looks down and could see his belly bulging beneath his waistcoat. Recently his clothes does seem tighter, and he couldn’t attribute it on any other factors but frequent visits to fast food joints. His sleep has been short and precious.

‘Last year my monthly production decreased to one due to great weight loss, and they’re lesser than half of my palm.’ Ben explains. ‘I was ecstatic. Until the weight regained and they came back in normal size.’ He sound a bit disappointed.

‘I see. Perhaps that is the reason.’ Harold answers abashedly, feeling more and more uncomfortable at his body mass. ‘Maybe it’s attributable to poor sleep as well.’

‘Get more sleep. Tell me about it if it happens again, okay?’ Ben’s voice filled with concern. ‘If it hurts, make sure to apply medication.’

‘I will, thank you.’ Harold smiles sincerely to the contraption, ‘I’ll frequent my calls as much as it is possible.’

‘Well, maybe I won’t be around to pick it up everytime.’ Ben says. ‘And I didn’t really mention about this, but,’ Ben stops mid-word.

‘My production ceased three months ago.’ Ben’s voice small.

Harold goes silent, uncertain of what to say. There are only two possibilities to this.

‘Abnormality?’ Harold whispers.

‘No. Nothing like that.’ Ben stops talking and starts tapping morse code onto the receiver. Harold listens to it with wide eyes.

‘ _ _I__ _ _’__ _ _m pregnant.__ ’

 

* * *

 

 

Hobbes have two fingers on his tie while his subordinate report. Last month, his favourite newcomer holed up in his toilet for 45 minutes. The guards were about to force the door open but he came out right at the nick of time. Said he was constipated. Hobbes told them to keep an eye.

‘Whatever he’s shitting in there, make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.’ He look at the particular camera of the said man’s cell. Just curled in a corner like a harmless animal. The same person attempted to release 300 of his prisoners in the west wing the first week he reached. Intended to start a revolt until Drake had the good insight to realize that they were missing some raw equipments. The little thief tried to hack into their system but unfortunately, they just got a system upgrade. And those equipment he stole are too obsolete to produce anything elegant.

He didn’t hear of anything quite the same until exactly one month later, where Drake just sneered and said something so disgusting Hobbes told him to shut it or else he would have the privilege to clean the newcomer’s toilet bowl.

‘He’s been in there for 20 minutes, sir.’ The guard reports, even through the mask he sounded awkward. There were past cases of course, but they never really end well. If they’re lucky, then the prisoners are really brewing their escape in the cubicle, if they’re not, then they’ll have to skip their following meal.

‘Drake. Pull him out.’ Hobbes tells the bewildered man. ‘If he’s really shitting, throw him to the doctor. If he’s not, bring him here.’

Drake was about to say something but Hobbes just waved his hand. In Hobbes’ sign language it translates to: lack of efficiency promises lack of holidays.

The Irish man stomps out and mutters something about stuffing the newcomer full with his own excretory products.

 

Drake practically dragged Ben along the path, his face contorted with anger as he spew profanities. The moment he kicked the cubicle door open, there was only the little shrimp inside, all flustered and sweating. He pulled him away and saw there was nothing there, the trousers not even pulled down.

‘You little fuck, schemin’ against us again, eh?’ Drake grits as he pushed Hobbes door open, presenting Ben in a practical fashion. Hobbes raising an eyebrow as Ben sweats heavily on the floor, face pink and nervous. Drake wanted to share more of his ideas to fuck Ben up when Hobbes just asked him to leave.

‘You’re gonna get it, so you better like it!’ Drake said and left, careful not to slam the door shut. He haven’t even had his lunch yet, and now seems like a fair time.

 

‘Little Ben.’ Hobbes greets the body on the ground. Getting up from his seat as a sign of affection. What Drake and the others didn’t quite know, was that after this miserable little pup failed in his attempt, Hobbes fucked him in this room itself. He couldn’t really put his finger on the reason, but just listening to how the pink mouth spewed lies after lies made him want to plug it up. So he dragged him to his own private bathroom to give him a quick shower before shoving his cock into the rinsed mouth. Maybe it’s because of his small frame and doe eyes. But whatever it was, the pained moans and later lewd cries were worth the indulgement.

It then became something slightly more common, at least once a week he would invite his guest to his office for interrogation. The asshole so wet he could thrust in without even preparing, the utter convenience was satisfying. He wouldn’t even mind if Ben dirtied his table, with a hole that sweet, he could forgive almost __all__  the mess little Ben wrecked.  

‘When’s the last time I fucked your ass?’ Hobbes says while standing in front of the shivering body. ‘Two weeks and your ass can’t live without a cock anymore?’

‘Fuck you.’ Ben reponds, burying his face in his hands as he clamp his thighs tight. He could feel the eggs trying to slip out but he couldn’t bear the humiliation. The thought of letting any other people know about his condition would kill him, letting Hobbes know about it would mean an ending more pitiful than death.

Hobbes steps on the belly softly, but with increasing pressure. Ben watch how the bespoke loafers slowly sinks in his belly and shrieks. Hobbes could see how Ben’s face flush so prettily and eyes so teary that he almost wanted to stop. But not really.

‘Take off your pants before I push your guts out.’ Hobbes says, lowering his sole threateningly. He already saw how soaked the pants are, sticking to Ben’s ass and marking out the curves. Ben can squirt but this isn’t normal. He wants to see what’s underneath.

To choose between two evils, Ben decided that the lesser evil was to comply. Either way, the eggs would be pushed out, the difference is just the agony. The most he could hope for was that Hobbes is benevolent enough to discard him in disgust, throw him off his ship if he may. At least that would fit some of his initial purpose.

Ben takes off the pants, the flaccid pink cock jolting in the cool air. The asshole leaking so much he’s almost suspecting diarrhea, but the fluids are clear. He ordered for Ben to spread his thighs. The asshole leaks thick water onto the ground, clenching and unclenching nervously.

‘Was fingering yourself, Ben?’ Clearly the hole is loose enough to leak, so Ben was indeed busy in the cubicle. He wanted to offer more snide remarks when Ben suddenly covers his mouth, breathing hard as he push away the feet and digs his finger into the wet hole.

Hobbes watch as Ben stuffs himself full like nothing matters, crying softly as he pulls his hole apart. Either he wants something to be pushed in or something is getting pushed out. Unable to tear his eyes from the writhing body, Hobbes feel his slacks getting restrictive as Ben sobs pitifully on the floor, straining the small body further.

Then it appeared. Hobbes see something white and small peeking out of the pink hole and before he could identify, it plopped onto the floor.

An egg all slicked up by the fluids.

He couldn’t even control his countenance, eyebrows furrowing and trying to digest the sight. Ben didn’t offer him more time, not long after, he lays another egg. Then another until there are three eggs on the ground in Ben’s pool of mess and Ben turns around to curl into a ball.

He could hear sniffles as he kneels down to take a better look. Took out his pocket square and held one of them with it, after making sure that it is a plain egg he place it back. Ben’s puckered asshole tightens as he sobs, still sopping. Hobbes decided to fuck this little bird after some proper answers are acquired, although Ben doesn’t seem to be interested in any conversation.

‘Care to tell me about them, Ben?’ He coos, turning Ben’s jaw to face him. The tear stained face made Ben look so much more younger, vulnerable. Face red as he hiccups, but those eyes filled with blue fury as he glares at the warden.

‘None of your fucking business.’ Those pearly teeth shining, Hobbes remembering to avoid them later.

‘You just laid eggs like a hen in my office, I’m sure that’s part of my business now.’ Hobbes whispers. ‘If you prefer not to cooperate, then I can stuff them back into your pretty asshole and let you throw a show in the public hall. I’m sure you will have plenty of attention there.’

Ben struggles while clawing on the expensive suit, Hobbes reacts by pinning him to the floor while holding both his wrists atop of his head, hand sliding down to find something that piqued his interest.

‘So you came after laying your eggs? Your depravity is stunning, little Ben.’ The cock covered in its own cum, Hobbes gave it a flick and Ben stutters a grunt. Neglecting it Hobbes aimed for the real prize and stuffs three of his finger into the stretched hole easily. ‘I’ll help you with the rest, with utmost generosity.’

Ben cries as the fingers prod against his prostate, Hobbes biting his breast through the thin shirt. The thumb press on his perineum and Ben feel like he’s about to pee.

‘There’s n-no more eggs!’ Ben stutters, trying to kick the man above him away. Hobbes fingers dug deeper and Ben almost felt like his ass is being lifted upwards from those fingers alone. ‘Now just f-fuck off!’ Ben crooking his knee against the warden but to no avail, Hobbes decided he’s too much of a hassle and took out his fingers to pin the unruly legs down. He bites on the swollen lips and thrust his tongue into the noisy cavity. While Ben is too busy trying to bite his tongue off, he picked him up in a fluid movement and placed him on the couch, hand on the thin neck while his own hand loosens his tie.

‘Don’t want to snap your neck, do we?’ Hobbes’ voice raspy, barely a choking hold but effectively keeping him quiet. ‘Don’t worry, despite your unique condition, you’re still my pretty little fuck toy.’ To prove his point, he gives the glowering man a smile and tied his wrist and ankle together. He unzips his fly and shoves himself in with no hesitation, Ben muffling his cries as he bites on his hand.

Hobbes jams the plump ass slow and sweet, his cock enjoying the soft muscles massage. Ben is so fucking wet that his sacks are soaked. The shirt crunched up to reveal the pale chest, admiring the teeth mark on Ben’s left breast, his aim impeccable. Like a puppeteer, he push the tied limb higher, the squelching increasing in volume as he gets swallowed deeper.

‘I would be so thrilled,’ Hobbes laughs as Ben sobs, ‘If I can fuck one of your eggs out, are there any left,’ He presses on the belly again, ’For you to __share__?’ A loud thrust and Ben’s cock bounces at the rough treatment. Ben just shakes his head, repeating no while Hobbes fuck him mercilessly.

Hobbes forgave how Ben is staining his couch, now he’s just enticed at how the hole slobbers around his cock, leaking but still trying to suck him in even though it’s stuffed full. Greedy only for more and Hobbes is ever so generous.

Ben screams in disbelief as Hobbes pushes two fingers beside the thick cock, stretching him to accommodate more. His ass was already filled to the brim and now it’s reaching its limits. The villainous creature just smirks as he bites his nipple, drunk in the smaller man’s hitched moans and cries. The fingers and cock basically digs into the prostate and Ben spurts uncontrollably between them, his cock flailing like a broken toy and dirtying the warden’s expensive attire. Hobbes delighted smile announce the inevitable, that Ben is squirting against the cock again, and Hobbes would never let this slip away.

‘You have such a good cunt, Ben.’ Ben whimpering as the cock does not cease its bullying. ‘So much better than your lying mouth.’ The stream bathing his cock and some on his fingers, trying to flush them out but not even close. Ben however, is still trying. The untied hand trying to push him away while Ben remains insubordinate with his red eyes.

Ben’s attempt to escape from the internal assault did not fail entirely, the fingers slipped out. But Hobbes capture Ben’s hand in his, let him feel how his hole is impaled fully by the generous cock. The rim fully spread and sucks on the cock when it leaves, the muscles pulled and pushed faithfully for the visitor. Forced to withstand the remnants of the fucking, his insides squeezing the girth while his fingers feel its plunges. His body trembles at the incessant pleasure, only relieved when Hobbes rams exceedingly deep and releases his load into the depths of his toy. He claws at the couch cushions, the gush of semen too hot and deep, his tears falling at the sensation.

Willard Hobbes with a loose collar and a dastardly smile just pulls out with little coveting for the warm bath. The smaller man gasps as his hole gushes uncontrollably without a stopper, knees trembling at their evidence of debauchery. His hips already sore, but if anything he knew Hobbes isn’t done with him. The man isn’t even shoving his dick back into his trousers as he observe the pool Ben is making. His heart shrivels in fear when Hobbes gives a longing gaze to the eggs on the ground, Ben could almost spell out his intention.

Hobbes looks at the wide eyed little bird and beams, but it went unappreciated. He gropes the ass mound and makes a humble proposal.

‘Since you’re fucked loose now, won’t it be easier for you to lay your eggs?’ Hobbes whispers. ‘We should have a test run.’

 

* * *

 

 

Ben sits on his bed, his hand kept around his belly. Hobbes almost fervent obsession towards the newly found anatomy made their fucking too frequent, and he was impregnated the month after Hobbes garnered his fascination in fucking the eggs out of Ben’s ass earnestly. The odd dynamics of their relationship grew into something even more indescribable when Hobbes realize he’s pregnant. He’s uncertain if the irresponsible mating sessions actually made Hobbes suddenly realize his buried humanity like those sappy soap dramas, but he’s shipped to shore until further notice. Apparently carrying a baby on a ship is considered unhealthy and inhumane by the doctor and Hobbes’ standards. That and maybe Hobbes isn’t even certain on what to do with him, so he’s put aside until he could decide.

So he ran away three days after he was brought to a sizable cottage. His belly unnoticeable but his claims of morning sickness threw the guards off in a confused fashion. He climbed out of the window with some cash and clean clothes, off to find his home.

He returned to one of the islands he lived on before setting off for sure. His small chest of belongings are buried under one of the loose planks before he was caught and thrown into Hobbes’ tomb.

Having made sure that the communication device he shared with his brother was still intact, and that’s what truly matters. Oddly he felt little grief for anything he could have with Hobbes. The child in his belly, he’s not even sure what it’d become. In the past he can smash the eggs or just throw them into the sea, but this is impossible to discard.

It’s life and part of him. He doesn’t feel much for Hobbes’ actions, or the imposition of this onus. Maybe he harboured certain feelings for Hobbes, but that doesn’t matter now. This is his child and he will raise it by letting them know that’s their sole identity.

It’s nearing four months, and he could feel it expanding in his body. He’s about to doze off on the thin mattress when the communication device rang. It’s kept on despite he’s supposed to conserve the battery. But there’s a small generator in the old cottage and he managed by. Sometimes, it’s just too much to be alone.

He stares at the somewhat familiar flashing and slowly, he pick up the receiver.

‘Egret?’


	4. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a statement of apology for the Hobben segment of the fic.

The final chapter of Bacon and Eggs was published on June 25th, 2017. 

 

Primarily, I would like to apologize over the lack of warnings and tags regarding the non-con elements in Chapter 2 -the Hobben segment- over the past months. My mind was a mess, and I’m never really a person to think about the tags that should be attached to my work. Even worse, I forgot about the content of this chapter so much so that I failed to amend it in time. If this segment caused you displeasure in any way whatsoever, I accept that its my fault, and I am lamenting over my error. 

 

Secondly, I had no intention in beautifying their relationship whatsoever. Due to the fact that they both exist in different universes and exhibit vastly different characteristics, I imagine that for them to encounter, the most plausible fashion would be a massive collision. I was insensitive about the exceedingly disturbing fashion in which they’ve developed romantically, which is via sexual assault and rape. To this I attribute it to my own lack of cognizance on such context. Again, I am in no means trying to glorify such events, which is why the story would be held on limbo on that part itself. Ben is pregnant due to such events, and I would not try to give both of them a happy ending, because there’s no way I can wash Hobbes’ faults with just a chapter or two. It requires actual penance that stretches beyond what words could describe in tens of thousands. I have no faith in myself to describe it aptly even, that perhaps I may give Hobbes a leeway to gain Ben’s trust too easily. Whatever the ending for them may be, is up to your discretion.

 

Again, I apologize profusely on that chapter if it caused you to think that it is an attempt to rationalize non-con or rape itself. It was extremely insensitive and foolish. I am appalled at myself due to this event, because I was so certain that I am indeed hoping only the best for John and Harold and their crossover pairings. I promise to pay more attention to the circumstances in my writing in the future and I'm firmly attaching it here that I will not depict any non-consensual events for them with unsound reasons and to a greater extent, no non-con elements will ever be present in any of my future writings.

 

Thank you.


End file.
